


Charmed 101: The Sister Who Came Back From The Dead

by Metal_Ox137



Series: Charmed AU1 [1]
Category: Charmed (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 09:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4217034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Ox137/pseuds/Metal_Ox137
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phoebe Halliwell finds herself stranded in another reality, where her older sister Prue is the only surviving member of the Halliwell line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charmed 101: The Sister Who Came Back From The Dead

It was a beautiful early autumn day in San Francisco, and Phoebe Halliwell stretched and yawned as she padded into the kitchen. Bright sunlight was streaming in from the atrium and washed both rooms in a diffuse glow of golden warmth. Phoebe squinted at the clock. It was just after ten in the morning. Her older sisters, Prue and Piper, would both be at work.  
Sighing heavily, Phoebe flipped on the small TV set on the kitchen counter. The agreeable background noise of the morning news programs percolated through the kitchen, and Phoebe set about making a fresh pot of coffee for herself. As the coffeemaker gurgled, Phoebe trudged back upstairs for a long shower.  
She returned a few minutes later, casually dressed in jeans, sweatshirt and sneakers, feeling marginally more ready to tackle the upcoming day. She poured herself a cup of coffee and settled into the closest chair at the kitchen table.  
Prue - for it couldn't have been anyone else - had left the newspaper out, with the section for the help wanted ads on top. In bright red ink, she had circled one of the ads with an arrow pointing to it, and the almost cheerful words "Try this one!" written underneath.  
With a moue of distaste, Phoebe flung the top section aside to look through the headlines.  
She had returned from New York City only a few short weeks ago, but the events since that time had been anything but boring. Although her reunion with her sisters had run into a few speed bumps - okay, a brick wall or two, Phoebe corrected herself in her thoughts - she did not regret returning to San Francisco, or coming back to live in her grandmother's house with her sisters. It was in the attic of the Halliwell Manor where Phoebe had found the Book of Shadows, the ancient family grimoire which had imbued Phoebe and her sisters with the gift of witchcraft, and her life had completely changed from that moment.  
Phoebe grinned, remembering. Prue had been furious, Piper anxious, and Phoebe - well, she was delighted; what _wasn't_ cool about being a witch? And why couldn't her sisters see just how cool it was?  
A guilty conscience prodded her somewhat, and she picked up the want ads again, but then threw them back down with a sigh. She did want to find a job, a paying job, so she could feel like she was contributing to the household, but searching for a job was so time consuming, so exhausting, and frankly, so depressing. There had to be some better way to find a career than cold-calling potential employers.  
Piper - for it couldn't have been anyone else - had left a grocery checklist for her, with a seemingly endless list of herbs, spices and staples to be purchased; it would take practically the entire day to collect all the requested items from the market. But Phoebe knew this was an errand she couldn't put off any longer. Piper had used the last of the flour last night, and Phoebe herself had emptied out the coffee urn this morning.  
Resigning herself to her fate, Phoebe made herself an english muffin, and grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl. She finished off the last of coffee, then returned upstairs to brush her teeth.  
When she returned downstairs, she intended to rinse out the carafe for the coffee maker, but something winked at her from the corner of her eye. Frowning, Phoebe turned, and saw a glint of reflected light from the table in the atrium.  
Puzzled, she walked into the atrium, and saw a beautiful gold ring with a red gemstone sitting out in the open on the table. Phoebe cocked her head and frowned at the ring in puzzlement. It certainly looked like the sort of item that Prue would have for cataloging at the auction house, but Prue was never the sort to leave anything just laying around - especially not a potentially precious piece of jewelry.  
Bemused, Phoebe picked up the ring and held it in her hand. The metal appeared to be real gold, and was cool to her touch. She was somewhat relieved that she had no "flash" when she touched it - sometimes, unfamiliar objects could trigger Phoebe's own power of premonition, the ability to see brief glimpses of the future.  
The gemstone was beautiful, a deep, blood-red stone that seemed to reflect any glimmer of light that reached its surface. As Phoebe stared at it more closely, the gemstone seemed to brighten, then actually shine, as if emitting its own light.  
Phoebe held the ring a little closer to her face, staring at it carefully, but as the light grew stronger and stronger she suddenly felt a sense of impending danger, and tried to set the ring back on the table where she'd found it.  
She never got the chance. A gust of wind blew down from somewhere above her, and as Phoebe looked up, a vortex of dark swirling clouds appeared directly overhead, where a plaster ceiling should be.  
"Oh, crap," Phoebe muttered in dismay. "When will I ever learn?"  
The vortex developed a snaking tail, not unlike a tornado funnel, and it lunged for her. With a shriek of fright, Phoebe found herself surrounded in darkness, and vicious winds blasted at her from all directions. The atrium, the house, was gone. The ring was no longer in her hand, she must have dropped it, but that information was of no use to her now.  
"Prue, Piper, HELP!" Phoebe yelled in terror, but her cry was lost in the shriek of the winds.  
She was falling now, no longer standing on a floor, but whisked off her feet and into some empty space devoid of any light. The wind pummeled at her like physical blows, and Phoebe found herself buffeted this way and that, with no sense of direction, or any hint as to where the next blast of malevolent force would come from.  
From underneath her came a sensation of a glimmer of light, but before Phoebe could fix her attention on it, she found herself sprawled onto cold, hard pavement.  
Momentarily stunned, Phoebe did not try to move. Her ears were ringing loudly and she must have cracked her head when she fell, as her head ached terribly.  
Nearly sobbing with fright, Phoebe lay where she had fallen, eyes closed, wondering if it even safe to move.  
When a little time had passed, and some of the disorientation had left her, she cautiously opened one eye. She appeared to be sprawled in an alleyway. She drew in deep, regular breaths, trying to quiet her ragged gasps, and when she felt calmer, she attempted to sit up.  
She felt woozy and slightly sick, but otherwise unhurt. She looked around her, seeing nothing other than a perfectly ordinary alley, brick walls running along either side, and a trash bin only a few yards away.  
Cautiously feeling her legs and ankles, Phoebe decided she'd suffered no breaks or sprains, and painfully got to her feet. Her heart was still pounding with fright, but she was no longer at the mercy of the vortex. The only question was... where was she now?  
Brushing herself off, Phoebe limped to the street. It was daylight, still morning, and apparently she had been unceremoniously deposited behind the convenience store that was only a few blocks from the house.  
Phoebe felt some sense of relief. She had half-expected to find herself somewhere utterly unfamiliar, some magical realm perhaps.  
The manor was only a short walk away. Unnerved as she was, she could cross the distance easily. She set out for home, walking purposefully up the sidewalk, affecting an air of normalcy she did not feel. The streets were deserted of any foot or vehicular traffic, which suited Phoebe fine. She felt she might leap out of her skin if she had to speak to anyone at that particular moment.  
The aches in Phoebe's back and legs subsided as she walked, and she found herself grateful to have escaped serious injury. Her thoughts returned to the ring. Had one of her sisters left it in the atrium, unaware of its power? Or perhaps had they too been taken, as she had been?  
Phoebe shook her head, but immediately regretted the action - her head throbbed. She put a hand to her temple and rubbed gingerly. There was slight swelling, but no blood. She hoped that meant nothing serious.  
No, if her sisters had been scooped up, as she was, and set down a few blocks away, surely they would have returned to the house and at the very least sequestered the ring somewhere it couldn't do any harm. Phoebe felt reasonably sure if one of her sisters had left the ring behind, they were unaware of its abilities. Well, she would make sure that they knew about that particular problem, and then some, she vowed to herself.  
She turned up Prescott Street, and started to walk up the hill towards the house. With something approaching alarm, she noticed all the houses on the end of the street were not only deserted, they were derelict - broken windows, shattered porches, peeling paint. It was almost as if some terrible explosion had ripped through the neighborhood.  
But there were no alarms, no sirens. Everything seemed very quiet. Too quiet.  
Almost running now, Phoebe sprinted up the street. The closer she got to her own house, the more damage she saw in the neighboring buildings.  
Phoebe came to an abrupt halt as both the sidewalk and the street fell away into what appeared to be a huge, deep crater that would cover the width of a half-dozen houses. With a sinking sensation of dismay, Phoebe realized that the house was no longer there. The spot where it would have stood was at the very center of the crater.  
Phoebe stared down into the chasm, utterly dumbfounded. It was at least thirty feet deep and the sides were little more than bare earth. There was no sign of the manor, the neighboring houses, or even debris from them. Everything was simply gone - as if it had been vaporized.  
Genuinely frightened now, Phoebe began to back away and finally ended up running down the hill in the direction of the convenience store.  
When she reached the store, she pushed the glass door open and went inside. The little shop at least seemed completely normal. Shelves of items, undamaged, lights on - but no clerk at the counter, and no customers in the aisles.  
"Hello?" Phoebe called, unable to keep the fright out of her voice. "Is anybody here? Hello?"  
There was no answer to her repeated calls, and Phoebe fought down a rising sense of panic.  
_Okay, okay, just relax,_ she told herself. _Find a phone. Prue will be at the auction house, Piper will be at the restaurant. Find a phone and call them._  
On slightly shaky legs, Phoebe wandered into the back office of the store, and found a telephone sitting on a desk, a squat rotary dial phone of the type that were everywhere in the sixties, but seldom seen now.  
"Huh," Phoebe grunted in bemusement, but as she looked around, it was clearly the only phone in the building. She picked up the receiver and almost gratefully heard a dial tone. With shaking fingers, she dialed Prue's number at the auction house. The phone on the other end of the line began to ring.  
"Come on, Prue, pick up," Phoebe pleaded aloud, wiping away a tear of fright from her eye. "Pick up, pick up, please pick up."  
The phone continued to ring with no answer, and no answering machine either. After letting the phone ring nearly twenty times, Phoebe slammed down the receiver, and suppressed a choked sob.  
She tried Piper's number at the restaurant, but again, there was no answer, and no answering machine.  
Phoebe sat on the edge of the desk, rocking back and forth, hugging herself, trying desperately not to burst into tears. What had happened to the house? And where was everyone?  
Not knowing what else to do, Phoebe left the store and began to walk in the general direction of downtown. Apart from being utterly deserted, the further she walked from Prescott Street the more normal everything appeared.  
After what seemed like hours, Phoebe flung herself down on a bench outside an office building, exhausted, bewildered and only slightly less than terrified. She had been walking more or less in the direction of Prue's office, and if she continued at her current pace, she would probably reach there in another hour. But her feet, back and head ached terribly, and she tried to rest her body as best she could, in spite of her tension.  
As she rested, she listened carefully around her, and with great relief, heard more or less normal noises of the city; the intermittent rumble of traffic, an occasional shout, or car horn. Nothing immediately close by, but at least there were people here going about their business. Phoebe exhaled a sigh of relief. She'd almost decided she had found herself in a city utterly emptied of people.  
When she felt calmer, and less aching, she stood up again, and set out on her way. She began to see cars crossing intersections some distance off - not many, to be sure, but at least there were some to be seen. There were even some people on sidewalks far ahead of her, but too far away to shout to them, even if, Phoebe reflected sourly, she had any idea what to say.  
She came across a much larger grocery store and felt a sense of great relief. Someone would be here, surely; maybe she could hitch a ride with someone to Prue's office.  
As she approached the windowed front of the store, she could indeed see people inside, and some of her terror fled away from her. She wasn't alone.  
A dark haired woman in a long coat was crossing the sidewalk, and as Phoebe stared at her, she realized the woman was in fact her oldest sister, Prue.  
Not quite believing the coincidence, but hardly willing to let her sister disappear, Phoebe called out to her and waved her arms. "Prue? Hey, Prue? HEY!"  
The woman looked up and saw Phoebe hobbling towards her. Phoebe drew up in front of her sister, panting for breath.  
"Prue. Thank God," Phoebe exclaimed. "I thought for sure I'd - "  
Phoebe halted herself in mid-sentence. Prue dropped her purse, just let it fall off her shoulder, yet she hadn't noticed; and she wasn't just staring at Phoebe - her back was arched, her body tensed and rigid, and her face wore an expression of sheer terror.  
"Prue? What is it?" Phoebe asked.  
Prue didn't answer immediately, and the silence unnerved Phoebe as much as anything she'd seen that morning.  
"Prue, you're scaring me," Phoebe pleaded.  
Prue swallowed hard. "Phoebe?" she managed to ask.  
Phoebe nodded her head slowly, but with great unease. "Yeah, Prue. It's me." She made a vague gesture indicating their surroundings. "What is going on around here?"  
Phoebe started as Prue visibly flinched at her gesture. Phoebe's heart sank. Her own sister was terrified - almost petrified with fright - at the very sight of her. And there was something else.  
Her sister was older. Noticeably older. Not old, not even middle-aged, yet Prue was clearly no longer a woman in her mid-twenties. Although Phoebe was hardly expert at judging such things, Prue seemed to have aged at least ten years. Her face had filled out, the corners of her eyes had distinct crow's feet, and her dark black hair clearly had several strands of grey.  
"Oh, my God," Phoebe murmured, unable to hide her shock. She very deliberately took a step back and kept her arms at her sides, trying to look as non-threatening as she could manage.  
"Prue, talk to me," she pleaded. "Where is Piper? What happened to Gram's house?"  
With a visible effort, Prue mastered her terror and forced herself to relax her muscles. She stared at her sister fixedly, narrowing her eyes, studying her. Phoebe found this unnerving too, but tried desperately not to show it. At least Prue's gaze now showed more bewilderment than fear. Phoebe could only hope that was an improvement.  
"You're... not my Phoebe," Prue said slowly.  
Phoebe frowned. "What do you mean, not your Phoebe?"  
Prue slowly raised her arm, extending an open hand towards Phoebe, not as a handshake, but indicating she meant to touch her.  
"May I?" Prue asked, and Phoebe nodded wordlessly.  
Forcing herself to step forward, Prue raised her open hand to Phoebe's cheek and stroked it almost tenderly. Phoebe noticed that the hand was trembling slightly.  
The caress was gentle, gentler than Phoebe had ever known her sister to be. After a long moment, Prue finally withdrew her hand and she looked at her sister now with a new expression, one of deep, abiding sorrow.  
"Phoebe, do you know where you are?" Prue asked at last.  
Phoebe made a helpless shrug. "After what I've seen this morning, Prue, I really don't know."  
"Where do you think you are?" Prue pressed.  
"San Francisco," Phoebe answered with anything but certainty.  
"And what year do you think it is?"  
"Prue," Phoebe exclaimed in exasperation.  
"Phoebe, please. Humor me. What year is it?"  
"Nineteen ninety-nine."  
Prue bit her lower lip. "And who do you think I am?"  
"You are my big sister, Prudence Halliwell."  
Prue stepped back again, blinking back tears.  
Phoebe was nearly at her wit's end by now. "Prue, please, you've got to help me," she pleaded. "I - I fell... into some kind of... magical whirlpool... I don't know what happened to me. And suddenly, I'm back in San Francisco - but Gram's house is gone, there's just a crater there where the house used to be, I don't know where I am, and I - I think I'm in terrible trouble." Phoebe found herself blinking back tears of her own, tears of fright.  
"Poor thing," Prue murmured softly. "You're terrified. Even more frightened than me." Making a decision, she reached down to collect her purse. "I think you'd better come with me," she announced, tilting her head, indicating Phoebe should follow.  
Hesitantly, Phoebe fell in step beside her sister, and they made their way along the sidewalk. "Where are we going?" Phoebe asked.  
"First, to collect Patience, then home," Prue answered. "I'll get out some wine, make us some dinner, and we'll try to figure out what's going on."  
"Since when do you cook?" Phoebe asked in total bewilderment. "And who is Patience?"  
Prue fixed Phoebe with a cold stare. "My daughter," she said finally.  
Phoebe was so astonished she didn't say another word until they'd entered the parking garage.  
Prue approached a dark mid-sized SUV and pulled a set of keys from her purse.  
"This is your car?" Phoebe asked.  
"My car," Prue answered in the affirmative and unlocked the door.  
"But what happened to the - oh, never mind," Phoebe sighed. A change of automobiles was scarcely the most pressing concern at the moment.  
"Just a second," Prue said, stepping into the vehicle. She quickly swept a pile of debris - office papers, coffee cups, and other detritus - into the back seat, next to a child's seat fastened on the passenger side.  
Phoebe, seeing the carrier, wanted desperately to ask how old Prue's daughter was, but sensed now was not the time. She clambered into the passenger side and buckled herself in.  
Prue put the key in the ignition but did not turn it immediately. Instead, she leaned forward, resting her forehead on her hands against the steering wheel.  
"Prue?" Phoebe asked in concern.  
"I'm fine," Prue said brokenly. "Just... give me a minute." She took in several deep, ragged breaths, suspiciously close to sobs. When she finally raised her head again, her face was wet with tears.  
"Prue, what is it?" Phoebe asked plaintively.  
"Sorry... sorry," Prue sighed sorrowfully, wiping her face with her hand. She took in a deep, long breath to calm herself and exhaled slowly. She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes.  
"Are you okay?" Phoebe asked. "What can I do to help you?"  
Prue opened her eyes again and gave her sister a sad, broken smile. "Sorry," she apologized again. "It's just - I never thought I was going to see you again."  
Phoebe's eyes narrowed. "What did you mean, when you said, I'm not your Phoebe?" she asked in trepidation.  
Prue looked long and hard at her sister. "Because my Phoebe's dead," she said simply.

The Halliwell sisters traveled to the day care center in uncomfortable silence, but as the SUV pulled into the parking lot, Prue's face and mood visibly lightened.  
"Shall I come in with you?" Phoebe asked, as Prue parked the car and applied the brake.  
Prue seemed to hesitate, then answered, "Sure. If you want. But we'll only be a minute."  
Phoebe unbuckled herself and the two women entered the building. Phoebe chided herself silently. She could have waited in the car. But the truth was, she wanted to see her sister's little girl - in fact, she was utterly consumed with curiosity. Prue had never wanted children - not her Prue, at any rate; but in this reality Prue was a mother of at least one child - and someone's wife, or lover. But who was the father? Was Prue married? In all her anxiety of the morning, Phoebe hadn't looked to see if Prue was wearing a wedding band.  
They had barely stepped inside when Prue dropped to her knees, and a small, dark haired girl, squealing with delight, ran into her mother's arms.  
For a moment, Phoebe was presented with an almost beatific image, kneeling mother cradling her beloved child, both of them lost to the world in the joy of their shared embrace. Phoebe studied her sister's face. Even here, the joy, as powerful as it appeared, was tempered by a deep, abiding grief. Prue kissed her daughter on the cheek and Phoebe realized with sudden clarity that this child was her sister's only balm for the wounds of the world. It was no premonition that informed this observation, but once realized, Phoebe was certain of it. What horrors had Prue suffered?  
"Mommy, mommy!" the child exclaimed. "James and I built a castle today - out of blocks!"  
"You did?" Prue was genuinely delighted by this news.  
"And we sang the stuffed bear song!"  
"That's wonderful, Patience!"  
Patience babbled on happily for several more moments, telling her mother all the truly important news of the day, and mother and child saw only each other; the rest of the cacophony of the center might as well have faded away into nothing. Phoebe watched this exchange and a slow grin crossed her face. Her sister was an attentive and loving mother, and it was the experience of motherhood that was the primary source of light and happiness in her life.  
Patience appeared to be around the age of four, but it was difficult to tell; Phoebe had only caught the merest glimpse of the child before she had rushed into her mother's arms. The child looked up and saw Phoebe smiling down at her.  
"Auntie Phoebe!" Patience cried, and leaped out of her mother's arms to place a fierce bear hug around one of Phoebe's knees. Phoebe could not help but laugh as the force of the child's embrace nearly toppled her.  
"She knows me?" she asked, glancing at Prue.  
"She knows one of you," Prue answered carefully.  
"Pick me up, Auntie Phoebe, pick me up!" Patience pleaded, raising her small hands up to Phoebe's.  
Phoebe wanted nothing more than to take the child in her arms - but then she saw Prue's face freeze for just a moment - once again, a flash of sheer terror - before the expression was forcibly pushed under.  
"I won't hurt her," Phoebe said softly to Prue, hoping the child would not overhear, or, if she heard, would not understand. "Whatever else you know about me, Prue, you know that."  
Prue hesitated, then nodded, but the fear in her face was so obvious and painful that Phoebe stopped. She leaned over and addressed her niece. "Let's help your mommy get you checked out first, okay?" she said, forcing her tone to be cheerful.  
"Okay," the child grinned, hugging Phoebe's knees again.  
Prue seemed to relax somewhat, and even forced herself to smile. Phoebe decided the best compromise was to sit on the floor and allow the child to do most of the hugging.  
Sighing visibly with relief, Prue stepped over to the counter, signed the sheet, and exchanged some brief pleasantries with the woman at the counter.  
"Is Auntie Phoebe coming home with us?" Patience asked her mother.  
"She's going to spend the night at our house," Prue assured her daughter with a happy smile that belied her tension. Prue glanced at Phoebe. "You will spend the night with us, won't you?"  
"I have nowhere else to go," Phoebe answered with great truthfulness.  
"Hooray! Auntie Phoebe's going to stay at our house!" Patience cried triumphantly.  
In short order, they were bundled back into the SUV, and headed out onto the street. Phoebe's head was spinning with questions, but she realized most of them probably should not be broached in the child's presence. So both sisters let the child dominate the conversation - more of a monologue with an occasional question or observation from Prue or Phoebe - and after a short drive, Prue guided the SUV into the underground parking garage of a large apartment building.  
Phoebe was about to ask about the house again, and stopped herself. Of course Prue had to live somewhere else - there was literally nothing left of Halliwell Manor.  
The car was parked, and Prue handed her daughter the key ring as they walked to the elevator.  
"Are you coming to live with us, Auntie Phoebe?" Patience asked, as they waited for the elevator to arrive at their floor.  
"Let's worry about dinner first, okay?" Phoebe laughed, but casting a worried glance at Prue. Her sister's face had softened; for the moment, the terror was gone, but her smile, while genuine, was still tempered with sadness so deep and so palpable that Phoebe almost cringed to see it.  
"It would make mommy happy if you stayed," the child insisted. "She misses you."  
"Well, we can talk about that in the morning," Phoebe suggested tactfully.  
"Will you read me a story at bedtime?"  
"If your mommy says yes."  
"Can she read me a story, mommy?" Patience asked, but the conversation was momentarily interrupted by the ding of the elevator bell, and the gentle whisk of the sliding doors.  
They stepped inside, and Patience stabbed a button for the seventh floor, and Phoebe found herself almost antsy to see what Prue's life and home was now like. She wanted desperately to ask about a husband or father, but had the sinking feeling that Prue and Patience were alone in the world now, a sad, lonely island of two, clinging to each other in some great emptiness and almost inconsolable sadness.  
Moments later, Phoebe found herself standing in the living room of a small but comfortably furnished apartment, with a long sofa and upholstered chairs huddled around a sleeping television set, fronted by a low coffee table. As Prue switched on the lights, Phoebe could see a hodge-podge of photographs and reproductions of paintings hanging on the walls; some were photos she knew from Halliwell manor, the paintings and lithotypes were doubtless from the auction house. Phoebe pondered that it was possible, in this reality, that Prue might still be working for Buckland's - or some other art gallery.  
The apartment was everywhere cluttered with newspapers, small toys, stuffed animals, crayons and Phoebe could not suppress a smile. Prue had sacrificed some of her compulsion for neatness and order to the reality of having small children in the house.  
"Come in to the kitchen," Prue invited Phoebe, with a tilt of the head into the darkened space beyond. She shrugged herself out of her long coat and hung it on a peg near the front door. "After the day you've had, I'll bet you wouldn't mind a glass of wine."  
"That does sound wonderful," Phoebe admitted.  
Prue smiled, and it was an easy, gentle, unaffected smile this time; full of warmth and tenderness - again, something Phoebe had seldom seen from her oldest sister.  
"Mommy's going to make dinner now," Patience announced, as Phoebe clearly did not know the rules of the household. "You have to sit at the counter and talk while she cooks. I'm going to draw with my crayons. Then we have to wash our hands and eat."  
"That is a very good plan," Phoebe agreed solemnly, and Patience marched away into the back hallway, presumably in the direction of the bedrooms.  
"Who's daddy?" Phoebe almost whispered as they entered the kitchen.  
"Andy," Prue started to say as she switched on the kitchen lights, and then glanced at Phoebe. "Ah, you do know Andy, don't you?"  
Phoebe grinned. "Andy Trudeau? Tall, good looking cop? Childhood sweetheart? Hard to forget." Prue returned the smile, and Phoebe marveled at how easily this Prue smiled, and how delightful that smile was. "Is Andy -"  
"He's gone, Phoebe." A dark cloud passed over Prue's face again.  
"Oh, Prue."  
"And Piper. And Leo." Prue pursed her lips to keep her expression from breaking. She still teared up, and Phoebe felt sympathetic tears welling in her eyes too. "They're all gone, Phoebe. It's just me and Patience now."  
"Oh my God, Prue, I'm so sorry." She glanced furtively at the hallway; Patience would be returning at any moment. "What happened?"  
"You really don't know, do you?"  
"No, I really don't."  
Prue's expression was very sober. "You happened, Phoebe."  
"Me?"  
Phoebe felt a great dismay building inside her, but there was no time to digest the sensation; Patience had returned with a pad of paper and a large, half-emptied box of crayons.  
"Auntie Phoebe, help me up," the child commanded, indicating a stool next to the counter. With a glance at Prue, who nodded her silent approval, Phoebe pulled out the stool and lifted the child into the seat. She seemed almost weightless and Phoebe felt an almost unbearable sadness for her sister and her niece, so alone with no one to comfort them but each other.  
Prue opened a bottle of cabernet and quickly poured two glasses, then poured some fruit juice into a plastic cup for Patience. Phoebe glanced around the kitchen; there was a small dining table in one corner, pushed up against a wall with two small windows that looked out over the fire escape. But it appeared disused, and it seemed that most of the dining in the Halliwell house - or was it the Trudeau house? - was done at the counter that bisected the kitchen from the dining area. Fronting the sink was a series of open shelves and windowed pantries, not unlike a smaller version of the kitchen at Halliwell manor; and like that house, jar of herbs and collections of utensils were heaped almost everywhere, seemingly haphazardly - punctuated by a small coffee maker, a microwave oven and a large bowl filled with fresh fruit. Like the living room, the space was small and cluttered, but comfortable.  
Phoebe took the glass of wine gratefully and sipped it with closed eyes. After her long day, the alcohol had an almost immediate soporific effect.  
Prue regarded her sister carefully. "How long has it been since you've eaten anything?" she asked with concern.  
"It's been a while," Phoebe admitted. "Not really sure how long."  
Prue nodded, then stepped to the small refrigerator. She took out a plastic jug filled with water and poured out a tall glass.  
"You might want to start with this," she suggested, handing the glass to Phoebe. "Otherwise you'll be asleep before dinner's over. And I think you and I are going to want to have a long talk tonight."  
"Thank you," Phoebe said in genuine gratitude, taking the glass. She gulped the cold, clear water and reflected this was exactly what she needed - she was not only distressed and exhausted, but dehydrated as well. She drained the glass without ever setting it down. Once finished, she looked over at Patience, who was intently focused on her drawing pad.  
"What are you drawing?" Phoebe asked.  
"A house, for me and mommy, and an extra room for you."  
"Oh, thank you!" Phoebe grinned.  
"Talk to mommy," the child ordered with great solemnity. "I have to draw now. I always draw before we eat."  
"Oh, of course," Phoebe assured her, and then looked at her sister, who was busy laying out ingredients for dinner. "Can I help at all?" Phoebe asked.  
"Nope," Prue answered, shaking out some greens into a bowl. Phoebe wanted desperately to ask Prue about what had happened, and where she was, but sensed this was the wrong moment. She watched her sister arrange pasta, cream and salad on the counter, and the actions were eerily similar to Piper's when her middle sister was preparing a meal. Phoebe forced herself to begin light conversation.  
"So, uh, how's the job going? You're still at the auction house?"  
Prue nodded. "Yep. Still curating at Buckland's. I know it seems stuffy, but really, it is fascinating work. I get to see all kinds of really amazing things."  
"Are you still working for Claire?"  
Prue frowned in puzzlement for a moment. "Claire? I don't know a Claire. I work for Rex Buckland."  
"Oh. Ah..." Phoebe knew she probably shouldn't follow that up, but she couldn't help herself. "Isn't he, uh, like, a demon?"  
"He was," Prue answered as if the matter was of no importance, not even looking up from chopping tomatoes.  
"What do you mean, he was?"  
"I mean, he was a demon once, but he's not any more."  
Phoebe found it impossible to contain her bewilderment. "This day just keeps on getting weirder and weirder," she announced to no one in particular.  
Prue made an offhanded shrug. "He's actually turned out to be a pretty decent boss, once all the evil was sucked out of him."  
"You've got to be kidding me."  
"Nope."  
"So, does that mean you're not vanquishing demons any more? No magic?"  
"Don't talk about magic," Patience declared solemnly, waving a brown crayon at her auntie. "It's our rule. No magic. We don't talk about magic."  
Phoebe was dumbfounded. "Why not?"  
"It makes mommy cry."  
Again, Phoebe felt her own heart shattering with sympathetic pain. She leaned over to meet the child face to face.  
"Well, then, we won't talk about magic," she declared solemnly. "Not ever. Because I don't want your mommy to be sad. And I don't want her to cry. Okay?"  
"Okay." Patience, mollified by the appropriate seriousness of her auntie's reply, returned to her drawing.  
Phoebe felt utterly at sea; there seemed to be nothing she could do or say that wouldn't open an old wound in this place, in this time. She debated the wisdom of accepting the invitation to stay the night.  
"Maybe I should go," she said hesitantly to Prue.  
"Please stay," Prue entreated, with a voice so soft and so plaintive that Phoebe could hardly refuse. "I know this must be hard for you. But you're still family." Prue paused in her preparations for dinner. "Family once removed, maybe. But still family. There is so much I want to ask you. And, I think, there's a lot you want to ask me. Please. Please stay."  
Patience put down her crayons. "You can't go, Auntie Phoebe." The child was visibly upset.  
Phoebe gave them both her most reassuring smile - or what she hoped was her most reassuring smile. "I'll stay," she assured them. She managed a grin for Patience. "Besides, I promised to read you a story later, right?"  
"Yay!" Patience was once again happy and content.  
Prue leaned over the counter, and for the first time, gently squeezed her sister's hand. "I know you must be frightened - and more than a little worried. I am, too. But we'll figure something out."  
Phoebe was utterly dumbfounded at this unexpected display of empathy. "I know you will, Prue," she managed to reply. "You always do."  
Dinner was a surprisingly happy affair; the meal was simple but expertly prepared - pasta with Alfredo sauce and fresh garlic, with tomato garnish, french bread, and a light salad - and again, Phoebe thought she detected a hint of Piper's influence in the preparation.  
Over dinner, Phoebe cautiously asked Prue some general questions about the past, avoiding any mention of the current situation. Prue seemed to understand that Phoebe was desperately trying to find her bearings, and answered everything readily and willingly, no matter how seemingly trivial the question. To their mutual relief, they found that some of Phoebe's oldest memories had parallels in this reality, and she and Prue even laughed together over fond adventures recounted from shared yet separate childhoods. Most of the distant past, at least, seemed more or less unchanged, which gave Phoebe a little more sense of security, if not serenity.  
As promised, Phoebe read two stories to her newfound niece after dinner, and the child seemed quite ready to drop off, even though it was still comparatively early in the evening.  
Prue put her daughter to bed with the promise of breakfast with Auntie Phoebe in the morning, and then the two Halliwell sisters retired to the comfort of the living room, with the remains of the bottle of wine in tow.  
"You're very good with her," Prue observed with a warm smile. "Do you have any children?"  
"God, no. I mean - not yet. Someday, I hope." Phoebe groaned involuntarily. "Patience has the right idea," she remarked wistfully. "I am ready to drop."  
"I know. You must be exhausted." This Prue was far more sympathetic and compassionate than her counterpart, which Phoebe found both appealing and disquieting. Such qualities seemed so unlike her "real" sister.  
"I would like very much to sit and talk with you, but if you're really too tired, I'll go fix up the spare room now," Prue offered.  
Phoebe shook her head wearily. "I'd like nothing more than to go to sleep for a week," she admitted. "But there are some things I just have to ask you. I don't think they can wait."  
"All right then." Prue filled their glasses again and gave her sister an encouraging smile. "Have a seat, and we'll talk until we both pass out, from wine or exhaustion or both."  
Phoebe could not suppress a giggle. Whether this place was real or not, Phoebe decided she liked this older, gentler Prue - if only she weren't so sad.  
Phoebe settled into an overstuffed chair in great contentment, and Prue laid herself out on the couch opposite.  
"Do you want to go first?" Prue invited.  
"I do, but I don't know where to start," Phoebe admitted.  
"Well, how about I start, and then you can jump in when you're ready?"  
"Suits me."  
"What's the last clear thing you remember before you found yourself here?"  
Phoebe found herself fighting through gauzy exhaustion - and the wine probably wasn't helping.  
"I was at home, I mean Gram's home, the manor. Prue - my Prue, Piper and I all live there now. I was in the atrium..."  
"Your sisters are still alive," Prue observed sadly.  
"Yes," Phoebe admitted, not wanting this truth to hurt her "new" Prue.  
"Sorry. Go on. You were in the atrium, and...?"  
"And I saw this ring on the patio table. I hadn't seen it before, so I picked it up to look at it."  
"What did it look like?"  
"It was a simple gold band, thick, like a man's ring - and it had some sort of red gemstone in it, like a ruby maybe."  
Prue frowned but said nothing.  
"Anyway, I started to look at it, and then I felt all... woozy... and my head started spinning, and..." Phoebe shook her head, trying to clear it, and immediately regretted the action after a meal of pasta and bread and the better part of a bottle of wine. "I saw this... vortex above me... like a tornado funnel, which was weird, because I was inside the house, and then... the next thing I know, here I am."  
Phoebe grimaced in self-recrimination. "I'm sorry. I guess that's probably not much help."  
Prue sat lost in thought, her brow furrowed in concentration.  
"What was the last demon you vanquished?" she asked finally.  
"The last demon I vanquished? You mean, personally?" Phoebe sought to clarify. "I haven't - at least, not on my own."  
"All right, then, the last demon you and your sisters vanquished together."  
Phoebe frowned. "It was a demon in human form... he went by the name of..." she grunted in exasperation. "Aarrgh! Name! Statler. That was it - Gabriel Statler. He had some big sword that could steal people's souls, or their life essence, or something like that. You - I mean, my Prue - made copies of herself and the demon slew them all."  
"But the power of three vanquished him."  
"Barely," Phoebe shuddered.  
Prue frowned, thinking hard, and Phoebe asked, "Why? Is it important?"  
It was Prue's turn to shake her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "But it does tell me, whatever reality you came from, the timelines don't align exactly. My sisters and I faced Statler, too - at least, one aspect of him. But for us, that was over six years ago."  
Their talk was interrupted by the ring of the phone. "Hold that thought," Prue said, leaning over to grab the receiver.  
Phoebe noticed with bemusement that the phone was extremely old - like the one she'd seen in the convenience store, an antique rotary dial phone dating from the sixties - a squat, boxy device she remembered Grams using.  
"Hello?" Prue spoke into the handset, its cord gently swaying to the base. "Darryl. Hi." Her husky voice softened noticeably. "No, I'm fine. Really. Yes, I have company." She glanced at Phoebe. "No, it's not Phoebe. At least, it's not our Phoebe," she clarified, placing careful emphasis on the word "our". Phoebe frowned, wishing she could catch some of the conversation on the other end of that swaying line.  
"Well, I'm glad Mrs. Parsons is watching out for me," Prue said into the phone with carefully measured equanimity. "Darryl, I'm fine, I promise. Everything's fine. I'll tell you all about it when I see you tomorrow morning? Okay. And thanks, Darryl. Thanks for checking on me." There was unmistakable warmth in Prue's voice. "Okay. Bye."  
Prue returned the handset to its cradle, a soft smile playing about her lips.  
"That's not..." Phoebe prompted.  
"Darryl Morris? Andy's old partner? Yeah."  
"You and he - "  
"We're, uh, sort of dating, yeah." Prue's shy smile grew slightly wider. "Well, okay, more than dating."  
Phoebe frowned. Prue and Darryl were lovers, but Patience was Andy's child with Prue. Which meant that something very bad must have happened to change things.  
"What happened to Andy, Prue?" Phoebe felt a little flutter of fear roiling in the pit of her stomach, in spite of the wine and in spite of the meal. "What happened to everybody?"  
Prue sat back down, eyes clouding with painful memory.  
"You said I was what happened," Phoebe pressed, and Prue nodded wordlessly.  
"What did I do, Prue? I mean - your Phoebe - what did she do?"  
Prue took a deep breath. "My little sister Phoebe," she began finally, and her voice broke almost instantly as she sounded the name. "My sister Phoebe... became a demon," she said haltingly.  
"Oh, God," Phoebe murmured, feeling the bottom drop out of her stomach.  
"And she... she killed... she killed everyone I loved. Andy. Piper. Leo."  
Phoebe's hands flew to her mouth in horror. "Oh, God, Prue."  
Prue shook her head, trying to hold back tears. "I look at you," she said, her voice shaking, "And you look just like her, and sound just like her... and I don't know... how any of this is even possible."  
She took in several deep, ragged breaths, trying desperately to hold back a rising tide of grief. Phoebe could only sit in mute horror, her glass of wine forgotten.  
"Anyway... as you probably guessed, the battle was at the manor. It took me, and Andy, and Piper, and Leo, and two dozen other Whitelighters to bring her down..." she paused. "You know about Whitelighters?" she asked. Phoebe nodded solemnly. "Andy showed up, even though I told him to stay away, but he wouldn't - " Prue's face cracked for a moment with pure grief. "She struck him down without a thought," she sobbed finally, every word pitched high with anguish.  
Phoebe couldn't help it, this was not her sister, not her real Prue, but her grief was so raw and so primal, all Phoebe could think to do was get up, cross over to the couch, and take her sobbing sister in her arms and hold her tight.  
"Oh Prue," she murmured, hot tears stinging her own eyes. "I am sorry. I am so, so sorry - "  
The two sisters held each other then, softly weeping, unable to speak more.  
It was several minutes before they finally unclasped, but even then, Phoebe took Prue's hands in hers and squeezed them gently. The sisters inclined their heads so their foreheads pressed together.  
"How long ago was this?" Phoebe asked finally, her own voice raw.  
"Three years ago," was Prue's reply, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper. "And... if it weren't for Patience, I think I might have ... " Prue could not finish, but there was no need.  
They sat together, each inclined to the other, hands clasped, heads bowed. Gradually Prue's paroxysm of grief ran its course, and she sighed deeply, reached for a tissue box and blew her nose.  
"God. No wonder you freaked when you saw me," Phoebe muttered. "I'm amazed you even let me come near you."  
Prue shook her head, her eyes still leaking tears. "I knew you weren't evil," she declared softly. "I knew the moment I saw you. My Phoebe was good too. Even when she succumbed to evil, there was some good still left in her. I know."  
"Prue - your powers - "  
Prue shook her head again. "I have no powers, Phoebe. Not any more. No one does. There are no witches - not here, not anywhere. No witches, no demons, no warlocks, no supernatural beings of any kind."  
Phoebe swallowed hard, her stomach lurching. "What are you saying, Prue?"  
"The battle was not just between the Halliwell sisters. It wasn't even just good versus evil. It was like - " Prue laughed bitterly. "Well, like nothing on earth. All magic, everywhere in the world, was sucked into that space and it was as if a great big bomb had gone off - not just a physical explosion, but a magical one as well. The resulting shockwave scattered magic like radioactive fallout all over the world, and here, in San Francisco, we're in the center of a magical 'dead zone' extending for hundreds of miles in every direction."  
Prue Halliwell gazed into her sister's eyes, clear and tear-bright. "All the magic in this world is gone, Phoebe. The demons are gone, but so are the angels. There are no warlocks, no Whitelighters, and no witches. In this place, magic ended. Forever."

* * *

"Auntie Phoebe! Auntie Phoebe!"  
Phoebe Halliwell shifted her weight in the bed slightly, but otherwise barely stirred.  
"Auntie Phoebe! Mommy says it's time to get up!"  
The child's high voice cut through the gauze of sleep, and slowly, Phoebe fought her way to consciousness.  
She was aware of a small hand touching her face. She rolled over on her side and opened her eyes. Patience Trudeau was grinning at her.  
"Good morning, Auntie Phoebe," Patience said politely. Then she called out to her mother in an impossibly loud voice, "Mommy! She's awake!"  
Phoebe winced at the sudden volume. "I am now," she grunted, and with an effort, shifted herself upright and rubbed her eyes.  
"Mommy says we have to have breggfirst now, because she has to go to work, and I have to go to day care," Patience explained matter-of-factly.  
Phoebe opened one eye and squinted at her niece. "Breggfirst?"  
"Yes, we have to have breggfirst."  
"Breggfirst. Right." Phoebe swung her legs out from the bed, and as she did so, she grimaced with pain. She was everywhere stiff and sore. In all the previous day's anxiety, she hadn't paid much attention to how roughly her body had been treated, but she was only too aware of it now. She ached all over.  
"Are you all right, Auntie Phoebe?"  
Patience was staring at her auntie very intently, clearly worried. Phoebe managed a weak smile.  
"No worries, kiddo. I just need a cup of coffee and I'll be fine."  
There was a light knock at the door. Phoebe looked up to see Prue standing in the doorway, holding out a white terrycloth bathrobe.  
"Sorry," she apologized. "I need to head to the office soon, and I need to drop Patience at day care. I didn't want to leave without checking on you."  
Prue regarded her sister's bleary eyes and lingering trace of pain. "Are you okay?" she asked with genuine concern.  
"I'm fine," Phoebe assured her. "I just feel like I was left to tumble in a clothes dryer - for a year."  
"I think you had a pretty rough day yesterday," Prue observed quietly. Then she smiled. "Come have a cup of coffee with us, at least. Then, if you want, you can go back to bed for a little while until you're properly awake."  
Phoebe took the bathrobe gratefully. The fabric was soft and heavy and warm, and the touch of it on Phoebe's skin was welcome. "Thanks, Prue. I'll be right in. Uh, where's your bathroom?"  
"Next to this room, just hang a right."  
"Thanks."  
"Come on, Patience, let's give Auntie Phoebe a minute," Prue Halliwell said to her daughter. "Your oatmeal's almost ready."  
The child scampered out of the room, and Prue smiled at her sister. "I'll make sure the coffee's extra strong," she promised with a smile. Then she too left the room, closing the door behind her.  
Phoebe fell back on the bed, looking at the room around her. She was still in this alternate reality, not in a dream, as near as she could tell. Wherever "here" was, she was really here.  
The spare room was cluttered with boxes against one wall, a mirrored armoire sat on the wall opposite. The room had no windows, and the small twin-size bed on which she slept took up most of the remaining space in the room.  
Wearily, Phoebe got out of bed, shrugged herself into the bathrobe, and made for the door. If she was still in this reality, maybe there was a reason she was meant to be here. But what reason? And was the source of that agency something good - or something evil?  
Phoebe caught sight of herself in the mirror, hair tousled, eyes still puffy with sleep, pillow wrinkles down one cheek.  
"Ugh," she grunted in self-disapproval. "I'm a mess." Then, awake enough to recognize her body's immediate needs, she made her way to the bathroom.  
A few minutes later, she padded into the kitchen. Prue was already dressed for work in a simple grey dress with a conservative cut but still very flattering. A dark blazer jacket hung on one peg near the door.  
The small table had been cleared with place settings, and Phoebe saw that a full breakfast was waiting - scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, oatmeal with cinnamon, buttered toast with raspberry jam, fresh squeezed orange juice and coffee with cream. Phoebe was dumbfounded.  
"Prue, where did you find time to make all this?"  
Prue smiled, and once more, Phoebe noted how beautiful her sister's smile was. Unlike yesterday, she now seemed calm and genuinely happy. But it was still jarring to see Prue looking so noticeably older.  
"I didn't know if you'd be hungry, but I didn't want to leave without making sure you had something to eat. Please. Sit down."  
"Come sit by me, Auntie Phoebe!" cried Patience, who was already deep into a bowl of oatmeal.  
The food talked to Phoebe in no uncertain terms, and decided for the moment to surrender herself to her situation. She took the chair next to Patience and grinned.  
Prue brought over the coffee pot, but before sitting down, she stood behind Phoebe's chair and gently massaged her sister's shoulders.  
Phoebe felt the light pressure and her aches seemed to flood away. She made a soft grunt of pleasure, and Prue gave her one last squeeze and sat down, smiling broadly.  
Phoebe took the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. "I hope you didn't go to all this trouble just for me," she remarked.  
Prue grinned, heaping some steaming oatmeal into a bowl for herself. "It's no trouble, Phoebe."  
"This looks like the sort of breakfast that Piper would make, when she'd say she had no time to make breakfast."  
"It is, isn't it?" Prue admitted, almost ruefully. "I think maybe I have some residue of her spirit. I never used to cook anything."  
Phoebe took a sip of the coffee and found it both strong and fresh. "Mmm," she sighed with contentment. "This is what I needed." She took another sip.  
For a few moments, conversation lapsed as plates and bowls were passed, and portions doled out with a cheerful clinking of spoons and forks and glassware.  
"So, how did you sleep last night?" Prue asked. "Did you do all right, shoehorned into the spare room?"  
"I slept fine," Phoebe answered. "I just think I could have slept another whole day at least."  
Prue grinned. "You can, if you want to. But I was hoping you'd join me for lunch later, and we can talk about your situation."  
"I'd appreciate that," Phoebe nodded.  
"Anyway, I have to meet Darryl at the station at nine - "  
Phoebe frowned. "At the station?"  
Prue smiled and made an almost embarrassed shrug of the shoulders. "Sometimes the police ask to consult me, either to inspect artifacts or to listen in on interviews with suspects. I don't have your power of premonition -" she stopped herself for a moment. "Uh, that is still your power, isn't it?"  
Phoebe nodded.  
Prue frowned as she thought of something. "Phoebe, have you had any premonitions since you arrived here yesterday?"  
Phoebe shook her head. "No. But it's not like I had the time to really think about it. I was a little freaked out."  
"I'll bet." Prue took a slice of toast and spread some jam on it for Patience, who took it gleefully. "Well, one crisis at a time. Anyway, I promised Darryl I would inspect a weapon this morning, to see if I could either intuit something about it, or to research its history."  
"Do you do that a lot? Help the police with their inquiries?"  
"A couple of times a month, I guess."  
Phoebe grinned. "So, the police know you're a witch?"  
Prue's face clouded slightly. "I'm not a witch any more, Phoebe. There are no more witches."  
"But then how - "  
"Don't ask me to explain it, because I can't. I know I can't cast spells any more, because I've tried. And my own powers are completely gone. But I have experienced some things that make me think there's some..." she struggled to find the right words. "Some magical residue left over that I can tap into," she said finally. "For example, I have been able to intuit fairly successfully, and sometimes that can help Darryl and his colleagues in solving some crimes where the evidence is scanty. And this morning, I cooked breakfast in about ten minutes."  
"All this?" Phoebe indicated the spread on the table, and Prue nodded.  
"Almost as if I could... if not freeze time, maybe slow it down a little."  
"So not all the magic is gone after all."  
"No, maybe not gone, but so diffuse there's almost no trace left." Prue frowned, pondering. "And you almost certainly arrived here by magical means. So it's definitely something we need to look into." She shook off some lingering malaise. "After I stop in at the station, I have only one appointment at the auction house this morning. I'm meeting one of our publishers who is going to create a catalog for us. After that, I thought we could meet for lunch and we can give your situation some proper attention."  
"Sounds great," Phoebe nodded in approval.  
"Mommy, is Auntie Phoebe going to stay with us?" Patience wanted to know.  
Both Prue and Phoebe grinned at this remark, and Prue reached over and squeezed her sister's hand. "I hope you will stay with us, Phoebe," she said with all sincerity. "At least until we figure out how you got here, and how to get you home."  
Once again, Phoebe was caught off guard by the warmth of her sister's compassion. Slowly, Phoebe smiled.  
"I think I would like that very much," she said quietly.  
Prue's smile was practically beaming. "Great. Well, you don't have anything to do this morning but rest. Please feel free to help yourself to anything here. And you'll have to borrow some of my clothes, at least for now."  
"I can?" Phoebe was astonished.  
"Yes, of course you can."  
"Prue, if there's ever one thing you always said to me, it's 'Stay out of my closet'."  
Prue laughed. "Well, I can hardly let you run around naked, can I? Don't worry, Phoebe. It's fine, really it is. We have a lot more pressing concerns than clothes right now."  
"Whoa, now you are scaring me," Phoebe protested, only half-jokingly. Prue laughed, and it was a warm, happy, delightful sound.  
"Okay, in your... version of San Francisco... do you have a Fog City Diner on the pier?"  
"Sure."  
"Think you can meet me there, say, one o'clock this afternoon? I'll buy," she added with a grin.  
"Sounds great," Phoebe said.  
"Oh, and I'll leave you the spare key to the apartment," Prue noted, almost talking to herself for a reminder. "So you'll be able to come and go as you please."  
Phoebe turned serious for a moment. "Prue? Thank you. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't found you yesterday."  
Once more, Prue reached over and squeezed Phoebe's hand, and there was great tenderness in her smile. Then she turned to her daughter.  
"Okay, Patience, you know what you need to do next?"  
"Brush my teeth!" Patience affirmed with an almost triumphant shout.  
"Are you done with breggfirst?"  
"Yes, mommy."  
"Off you go, then." Patience bounded away, and Prue smiled at Phoebe. "Okay, we really have to go, or we'll be late. Make yourself at home and I'll see you later."  
"Let me take care of cleaning up the dishes," Phoebe suggested. "You won't have to worry about being late, and it will make me feel like I'm contributing something."  
Prue's smile was bright and effortless. "That would be great. Thanks, Phoebe."  
Phoebe sat at the table, sipping coffee thoughtfully, watching and listening as Prue and Patience made their preparations for the day. As Prue shrugged herself into her coat to leave, Phoebe got up from the table, and was surprised to find herself in a tight hug from her sister.  
"See you later," Prue whispered with great affection, and her smile was nearly ear to ear as Patience gave her auntie a good-bye hug, and then Phoebe was alone.  
Returning to the kitchen table, Phoebe sat, poured a warmer into her coffee cup, and pondered.  
Prue had seemed to have forgotten all of yesterday's terror, or if she remembered, she had now managed to put it behind her. The warmth and love Phoebe felt directed towards her by this Prue was clear and unmistakable. Whatever shock she felt yesterday, Prue was genuinely happy that Phoebe was here - wherever here was.  
And where was here? An alternate reality? This was still San Francisco, and yet, it wasn't. Prue was still her sister, but now several years older - married, and widowed. It was hard not to be startled each time Phoebe looked into her sister's face, seeing such clear changes in her age and appearance. But there was no denying the reality of the predicament. Wherever here was, it was no dream.  
As Phoebe looked around the apartment, she began to notice what were clear anachronisms - at least to her. The phone was an antique, but it was the only one in the apartment. Nobody she'd seen in the last twenty four hours carried a cell phone - at least, not one that she'd noticed. There was no computer in the apartment. The television set had no remote, and boasted a large cogwheel knob on its panel to locate stations.  
_So they don't have contemporary electronics here,_ Phoebe considered. _That's not so bad. There are worse problems._  
She noted the small stereo in one corner. In the small hutch underneath was an disorganized pile of cassette tapes and vinyl records. Bemused, Phoebe pulled out a few to read the titles. Two of the discs were filled with children's songs, probably for Patience. Most of the rest appeared to be jazz records.  
"John Coltrane. Milt Jackson. Wes Montgomery?" Phoebe shook her head in bemusement, and returned the records to the hutch. This Prue apparently loved music, but Phoebe could hardly imagine her sister listening to jazz. There were clearly more differences than similarities between her two sisters. And as with the television set, the digital revolution clearly hadn't occurred in this world. Yet.  
She thought more carefully. She'd seen many cars on the streets yesterday, and most of them seemed to be of contemporary vintage, and yet - something wasn't right. How many cars had she seen? Suddenly she realized that although cars were about, the traffic was incredibly light - as if she'd arrived in the city during a holiday.  
Prue's apartment offered a modest porch. Phoebe opened the sliding glass door and stepped outside. It was quite cold out, and Phoebe shivered, yet she barely noticed the cold as she listened.  
There was city noise to sure, the standard rumble of horns, car motors, construction equipment - but somehow muted and diffuse, considerably quieter than she would expect in her own version of San Francisco.  
The street immediately below her was almost entirely free of traffic - cars or pedestrians, and while a few of each went by, the street could hardly be described as busy.  
Frowning, lost in thought, Phoebe went back inside and surveyed the apartment. As she'd seen the night before, many of the photos she knew well - images she knew from Halliwell manor. But most of the images were not of Phoebe and her sisters, rather pictures of her mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. One picture showed Prue and Andy Trudeau, apparently on a camping trip, beaming happily into the camera with a lake in the background. Nearly all the photos were from the previous generations of the Halliwell family, not the current one.  
The rest of Prue's apartment was decorated with modest poster reproductions of famous paintings by Degas, Monet and Van Gogh, simply mounted in austere black frames. The furniture was nothing she recognized. But since there was now a large crater in the ground where Halliwell manor once stood, it was reasonable to assume no furniture from that house survived to find its way into Prue's modest apartment.  
She picked up the newspaper and looked at the date. The paper declared itself to be published on the twenty-sixth of October, in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and ninety-nine. So from a calendar date, she was only a few days removed from her own time. Yet Prue in this time and place was considerably older. Did that mean, then, her sister had born six years earlier?  
Phoebe shook her head with a grimace. Too many questions. Too few answers.  
Deciding to clean up before she showered, Phoebe moved through the apartment, straightening the clutter, tossing old newspapers, picking up the toys and returning them to a wooden chest in Patience's bedroom, then turned her attention to the kitchen.  
There was no dishwasher in the kitchen, so Phoebe filled one of the sinks with warm water and washed all the plates and cups and flatware by hand, grateful to have a mindless task to occupy her hands so her mind was free to consider what had happened to her.  
As Prue had suggested, there was little doubt magic was the agency that had plucked her from her own place and time, and deposited her here, in some alternate reality - but was that magic purposeful? As she considered, it seemed highly unlikely that this abduction was an accident. Which left her to decide whether the agency that had collected her was for good or evil. With great disquiet, Phoebe concluded the magic was most likely malevolent in nature. If the magic had been benevolent, she would have almost certainly been approached, and warned of her impending journey, or possibly been presented with a messenger seeking her consent. No such thing had happened. She had been snatched away, suddenly and violently, from her own reality, and placed here for some unknown purpose. Phoebe was finding it harder and harder to imagine that purpose intended anything good.  
She turned her thoughts to Prue. Although it was possible the Prue of this time and place might be the agency, it seemed unlikely. Her sister's terror, grief and even love seemed utterly genuine. She could not rule out Prue's involvement, but Phoebe hoped desperately that Prue was innocent of any malice. She liked this older, kinder, more open Prue very much - it was almost like a version of Prue she wished for, instead of the truth of her real sister, who was often angry, closed off, and emotionally distant.  
Maybe that was the trap, Phoebe considered. This Prue seemed to good to be true. Maybe she was. Maybe this Prue was in fact innocent of malice towards her, but it was possible some demonic force might have brought the two of them together, for purposes unknown. Why else had she been presented with an alternate version of her own sister, one she would find immediately appealing, whom she was finding it harder and harder not to embrace?  
Prue had said that all the magic in the world had been destroyed, and that she - Phoebe - had been instrumental in its destruction. But Prue had made no mention of how the Phoebe of this reality had changed from a good witch into a demon, and even so, she had only Prue's word that magic no longer existed.  
She had touched nearly everything in the apartment by now, and yet had picked up no premonition of anything at all. This in itself was scarcely unusual. Her power of premonitions only manifested itself when it was needed - although lately she had been gaining some control over summoning the premonitions at will.  
Finishing the dishes, she dried them all carefully and with a little searching found a home for the plates, cups and flatware. Then, taking in a deep breath, purposefully walked into her older sister's bedroom.  
The room was sparsely furnished. A bed, a nightstand, a mirrored dresser and a wooden chair with a padded pillow seat made up all the furnishing. A small jewelry chest sat atop the dresser. Phoebe opened the chest and with great care picked up some of the pieces of jewelry, holding them in her hands, trying to summon an image. Nothing came to her.  
A separate box inside the chest contained a simple wedding band, gold with a modest diamond. Almost certainly this was Prue's wedding ring. If there was any emotional residue left on any object in the apartment, surely this would be it. Phoebe closed her hands carefully over the ring, closed her eyes and concentrated.  
Nothing.  
Disappointed but undaunted, Phoebe returned the ring to its place in the chest, then turned her attention to the clothes in the drawers of the dresser, carefully touching sweaters, skirts and undergarments, but again, no images, no premonitions. The bottom drawer of the dresser was filled with candles, a small double-bladed knife made of silver, and a few other artifacts that could have only been intended for practicing witchcraft. This seemed far more promising. Phoebe sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of the drawer, and took out each of the objects one by one, held them carefully and concentrated.  
Once again, nothing.  
Phoebe fought down a growing sense of dread. Of course her own power often unnerved her - premonitions had the habit of presenting themselves at the most unexpected of times. But to sense nothing at all, especially when she was proactively prompting for the power to manifest, was deeply disquieting. She realized, ruefully, that she had come to depend on her powers more than she realized, and now, apparently robbed of them, she felt somehow defenseless.  
But was she? She hadn't yet tried casting a spell. It seemed a harmless enough experiment. She had enough control now to carefully harness energies for the type of spell she wished to cast - and if all magic was truly gone, then nothing at all would happen.  
She decided the simplest and most practical spell to cast would be the truth spell. The spell in and of itself was harmless. It would run its course in the space of twenty-four hours, during which time anyone who spoke directly to Phoebe would be compelled to speak nothing but truth. Once the twenty four hours ended, everything would return to normal, and only Phoebe would have any recollection of anything that had been said or done during that time.  
Happy at last to have decided on a course of action, Phoebe took out a small varnished board at the bottom of the drawer - Prue had clearly used it for a makeshift altar - then she arranged seven candles around her in a circle, lit each one by one, murmuring prayers and enchantments as she did so. The Book of Shadows was nowhere to be found, and Phoebe found this worrisome, although she hardly needed the book to cast the spell she already knew by heart. But its absence was yet one more thing added to the ever-growing list of questions she needed to ask her sister.  
With great relief, she returned the silver blade to the drawer, as this spell would not require any of her blood. She arranged some remaining artifacts on the altar, closed her eyes and in a low, soft voice, recited the spell.  
After a moment, Phoebe opened her eyes. She felt nothing, sensed nothing. That certainly didn't mean the spell hadn't worked - after all, she was alone. She could hardly judge the efficacy of her enchantment until she ventured out into the city and began speaking with other people.  
She sat in the circle a while longer, letting the candles burn, hoping that if magic was truly diffused that the lingering might attract any remaining wisps of power. Finally, she blew out the candles in reverse order to which she had lit them, and decided it was time to tend to more practical needs, beginning with a long, hot shower.  
Some while later, Phoebe stepped from the shower, feeling slightly guilty at having stayed in so long, but the hot water had felt so good on her bare skin, and it had both calmed and re-invigorated her. She padded back into her sister's room, toweling herself off, and found a light undershirt and panties, then opened the closet to search for some suitable outerwear.  
This Prue dressed far more conservatively than the "real" Prue. The dresses and separates were very modest, unassuming, most of the outfits oriented towards a career at the office. The clothing was not dissimilar to what Prue wore in the "other" world, but Phoebe's version of Prue also had a wilder side and clothes to match. This Prue, apparently, had no such side to her. All the clothing was simple, modest, comfortable, and mostly professional. Even the two black cocktail dresses were austere and unassuming pieces.  
Phoebe found a pair of jeans, a simple white blouse, and socks and tennis shoes that fit well enough. She and Prue were still able to share each other's clothes, that at least had not changed. Phoebe completed her attire with a simple hooded sweatshirt, as it was still quite chilly out.  
Surveying the apartment one final time, she took the spare key from the table where Prue had left it for her, and let herself out. Now it was time for Phoebe to see if she could find out where she truly was. If, she reflected darkly, she really wanted to know. 

* * * 

As Phoebe stepped out into the open air, she decided the best course of action would be to walk to the pier. The restaurant wasn't that far from Prue's apartment, and the walk would give her some moderate exercise. It would also allow her to orient herself to this new reality at a pace she could decide, and maybe present her with an opportunity to see if her precognitive abilities still functioned in this place, or if her spell had worked.  
The air was clear and cold, but the sun warmed her, and as she walked through the streets she felt at least some sense of normalcy returning. The streets and shops seemed reassuringly familiar, and even though the traffic on the streets was a fraction of what it should normally be on a busy day in the city, there was nothing untoward in the traffic she did see. All perfectly normal. All lulling her into a false sense of security? Phoebe wondered uneasily.  
Still, she had no visions, and no sense of imminent danger. She knew she ought be more on her guard, but frankly felt too tired to be so defensive. It was quite easy to avoid strangers, there were very few people on the streets at all. She set out at a leisurely pace, and arrived at the pier shortly after noon.  
There was still a few minutes before she was to meet Prue at the restaurant, so Phoebe ambled up and down the pier, watching for everything and nothing in particular. All seemed perfectly normal, although even on the busiest parts of the tourist areas, the crowds and gatherings of people seemed a fraction of their usual size.  
Phoebe oriented herself in the direction of the diner and soon saw Prue walking towards her, still some distance away. She gave a friendly wave. Prue returned the wave, and even though she was still some ways off, Phoebe could see her sister smiling brightly.  
When they met, Prue again pulled Phoebe into a quick but fierce hug.  
"Worried I was going to disappear?" Phoebe asked with a grin.  
"Yes," Prue answered, utterly serious. Then she smiled. "Come on. Let's get something to eat. I'm starving!"  
They entered the diner, and a waiter directed them to a comfortable booth that overlooked the walkway. After they ordered light lunches, and the drink order was left at their table, Prue gave her full attention to her sister.  
"I've been thinking about how you got here," she said quietly.  
"Any ideas?" Phoebe asked hopefully.  
"About who, how or why?" Prue shook her head. "No. But I'm convinced it was by magic, and... I'm sorry, Phoebe, I'm also convinced it was evil."  
Phoebe nodded in relief. "That's what I thought, too."  
"So let's assume whoever brought you here had a reason. But - did they know they were sending you to a place with no magic?"  
Phoebe frowned. "Sorry, Prue, I'm not following."  
"Well, suppose whoever brought you here wanted you here, because you would be a creature of magic in a place where there isn't any."  
"Why?"  
Prue shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. But I can't help but feel if we find the intent, we find the purpose. Maybe whoever sent you here didn't know that all the magic was dissipated, and inadvertently landed you in a dead end, magically and otherwise. But I doubt it. I think it's more likely that you were brought here precisely because there is no magic, and you are a very powerful witch, positively brimming with magic."  
"But that would assume that someone here already has magic," Phoebe objected. "Otherwise, how did I get here? In order to summon me, it must be a demon or a warlock or something like that."  
"Maybe. Maybe not. It could be some person or force outside this reality, sending you in first."  
Phoebe could not suppress a shudder. "To do what?"  
"Maybe... to open a door to magic a little, to let other magical beings in behind you?" Prue shook her head. "The more I think about it, Phoebe, the more convinced I am that we have to find a way to send you home. This may or may not be a trap for you personally, but whatever it is, there is no good intent behind it. I don't know how we're going to do it, but we have to get you out of here, back home, where you belong. And soon."  
Phoebe felt great relief flooding her heart. Prue looked at her sister quizzically. "What is it?" she asked.  
Phoebe let out a sigh. "Now I know you're my sister," she declared. "Only my real sister would insist on always doing the right thing."  
Prue smiled sadly. "Please don't say that. It breaks my heart to even think about you leaving. For purely selfish reasons, Phoebe, if I could think of any way at all to entice you to stay here, I think I would probably do it."  
"You miss your sisters very much," Phoebe observed quietly.  
"I'm lost without them," Prue said simply.  
The conversation stopped briefly as the server brought them their meals.  
Prue ate unhurriedly, deliberating over bites of her salad as carefully as she directed the conversation. "Let's assume for the moment that your Prue and your Piper know you're missing, and that they're looking for you," she mused, absently twirling a small piece of grilled chicken on the end of her fork.  
"That's even if they know where to look," Phoebe objected, between wolfish bites on her burger. "I could be anywhere in time or space for all I know."  
"You mentioned just before you brought here, you saw a ring, one you'd never seen before, and you picked it up and held it."  
"Yeah, but I got no weird vibe off it. If it were supernaturally charged, at least in my own world, I think I would have detected that."  
"It could have been a passive device," Prue said thoughtfully.  
"Huh?"  
"I mean, the ring might be a conduit through which magic travels, but it may not be magical in and of itself."  
"Which means someone was watching me, waiting for me to pick it up?" Phoebe found that idea disturbing.  
"Probably."  
"Ugh." Phoebe made a moue of revulsion. "So, what do we do now?"  
Prue shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I honestly don't know, Phoebe. I have no way of sending you home by any means magical. I just know, somehow, we have got to get you out of here, before whatever has been planned is carried out." She frowned for a moment. "Do you think you could draw a picture of the ring for me?"  
"I could try."  
"If we can find out something about that ring, maybe we can learn something else about how it's used."  
"And who's using it."  
"Yes, exactly."  
Phoebe leaned back in her seat, a moue of bemusement on her face.  
"What is it?" Prue asked.  
"I have a confession to make," Phoebe admitted.  
"Oh?"  
"I, ah, found your altar this morning. And I tried casting a truth spell."  
Prue shook her head. "They're just words now, Phoebe."  
"Well, my point is, I tried the spell because I wanted to know if you are... who you say you are." Phoebe felt awkward and embarrassed, but Prue seemed unfazed.  
"It's okay, Phoebe, really. I can't blame you for wondering. If I were in your place, I'd be wondering the same thing."  
"I don't care if this isn't my San Francisco," Phoebe said with great conviction. "But you're my Prue. Really and truly. You couldn't be anyone else."  
Prue smiled, but there a faint tinge of sadness in the smile. "I'm very glad to hear you say that, Phoebe."  
They ate the rest of their meal slowly, in companionable silence. When the waiter came to check on them, Prue ordered two cocktails.  
"We're not getting sloshed, are we?" Phoebe asked half-jokingly.  
Prue shook her head. "It's just... I don't want this day to end." She fixed her younger sister in her gaze. "I am going to miss you terribly, Phoebe, when you finally do go home." She forced herself to smile, her eyes tear bright. "Maybe it is selfish of me, maybe it is personal gain, but I just want to spend one quiet afternoon talking with my sister. I enjoy being with you. I hope that's not wrong. When you... when my Phoebe... died..." Prue paused for a deep breath. "There were many things I said to her that I regret now. And many other things I didn't say, that I wish I had said."  
Phoebe considered that statement thoughtfully. "It must have been quite a shock, seeing me yesterday," she mused aloud.  
"Oh, it was," Prue assured her, discreetly wiping a tear away.  
"Are you okay?"  
"Hey, give me a break," Prue protested. "I've just been reunited with my dead, demonic younger sister, and managed to get by on just two bottles of wine and a box of tissues. I think I'm holding up pretty well."  
They both laughed then, heartily and happily, and as the waiter brought their drinks, they toasted each other with a clink of glasses.  
After they sat quietly for a few moments, Phoebe asked, "How did your Phoebe become a demon?"  
Prue's face clouded slightly. "She married one."  
"She did? Did she know it at the time? I mean, that her fiancé was a demon."  
"Yup, and I was furious with you." Prue grimaced. "Her," she corrected herself. "I meant her. Sorry."  
"Wow." Phoebe digested that in sober silence.  
"Maybe it's wrong of me to try to influence outcomes in other realities," Prue said quietly. "But, if you ever meet a demon named Cole Turner in your world, stay away from him. Far, far away."

* * * 

Within the hour, the Halliwell sisters arrived at the main branch of the San Francisco public library. As they entered the lobby, Phoebe looked around her in bewilderment.  
"Where are the computers?" she asked.  
Prue gave her a blank look. "Sorry, the what?"  
"Computers. You know. Big screens sticking out of every wall..." Phoebe caught her sister's puzzled stare and sputtered to a halt. "You really don't know," she marveled. "Okay, never mind. Forget I said anything." She made a nervous chuckle. "Okay, so what are we doing here?"  
"Well, there is no more Book of Shadows..."  
"Ooh. I meant to ask you about that."  
"It's gone, Phoebe. Just like Gram's house. Destroyed." Prue sighed sadly. "But there are several excellent books on the occult quartered here. Maybe we can find a representation of your ring in one of them."  
Prue noted Phoebe's pained expression. "What is it?"  
"Wow. A world with no Book of Shadows. I can't..." Phoebe shrugged helplessly. "It's weird. I can't even imagine it."  
"It's a colder, sadder, darker place to be sure," her older sister agreed solemnly. She headed for the basement stairs. Phoebe followed after a moment's hesitation.  
"That's something else I wanted to ask you," Phoebe said as they descended the stairs together. "Where are all the people?"  
Prue frowned. "What do you mean?"  
"I mean, well, compared to my San Francisco, your city is practically empty. I've hardly seen anybody. There's no traffic, no crowds - "  
"Oh."  
The deflation of the vowel was so complete that Phoebe stopped her sister on the stairs mid-step.  
"Prue, what happened?"  
"Well... it's not entirely bad, Phoebe. All the people, they're still here. They just... don't go out unless they have to."  
"I don't understand."  
"Our San Francisco used to be a lot like what I think your San Francisco still is... people and cars rushing everywhere. But after the explosion of magic, everything changed. Not drastically, but..."  
"But what?"  
"I'm not really sure. Most people stopped going anywhere they didn't absolutely need to go. Crime has dropped off dramatically. They say that murders, rapes and drug busts have dwindled away to almost nothing."  
"Well, why is that bad? It sounds like something good came out of all that magic fallout, as you call it."  
Prue shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe. But it just seems to me like most people have just... switched themselves off. They're not living. Or at least, they aren't living they way they used to. It may be peaceful, it may be quiet, but it isn't normal. Ironic, isn't it? Most of what people do seems to be driven or motivated by evil. Without it, we just... stop."  
"So all these people, they're just sitting around, doing nothing at all? They're not watching television, reading a book, cooking, anything?"  
"I think... they're all waiting."  
"Waiting for what?"  
"For you," Prue said soberly.  
They continued their descent into the basement.  
"So you really think I'm here to bring magic back into this world?"  
"I think someone wants to use you for magical purposes, yes. And somehow, without any magic, we've got to stop them."  
"But I still have magic. At least, I think I do. And you think so, too."  
"Yes, but right now you're not able to 'plug' into anything, because there's nothing to tap into. It's like a television set if you unplug the power cord from the outlet. The signal may be there, but nothing's getting through."  
"Then how do we set it right?"  
"I don't know, Phoebe." They found themselves at the bottom of the staircase.  
"Never go into the basement," Phoebe muttered warily. "Or, in this case, the sub, sub, sub-basement."  
Prue gave her sister a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. If there's anything magical hiding down here, it can't harm us."  
"You hope," Phoebe retorted.  
"I hope," Prue agreed soberly.  
They found themselves in a dimly lit room, with shelves of books stretching away into almost total darkness. The smell of mold was heavy in the air. Phoebe wrinkled her nose.  
"Where do we start?"  
"There are some general reference books on the occult on the stands over there," Prue nodded in the direction of the table. "Most of them have pictures or photographs of occult artifacts. Start flipping through them, and see if you find anything even remotely close to the ring you saw."  
Phoebe did as Prue asked, frowning deeply.  
"What is it?" Prue asked.  
"I just thought of something. The ring... it didn't come here with me. At least, I don't think it did."  
"So?"  
"Well, that would mean it's still sitting in the atrium, on the table."  
"You mean, what if your Prue, or Piper, were to pick it up and look at it?"  
"Yeah. What if the ring wasn't meant just for me? What if it was meant to trap them, too?"  
"So, you think the ring would bring them here?" Prue frowned. "And if they came here, they would do the same thing you did, which is try to go home - to Halliwell manor."  
"And find a big crater in the ground."  
Prue seemed genuinely worried. "Well, if all our unknown demons wanted was to nullify the power of three, they've already done that, by stranding you here. But no demon I ever met wanted to just nullify the power."  
Phoebe nodded soberly. "They want to steal it for their own."  
Prue sprinted for the stairwell.  
"Hey, where are you going?" Phoebe asked, mildly alarmed.  
"I'm going to call Darryl, ask him to drive by the manor, to look for a dead girl - or a doppelgänger. Keep looking through the books! I'll be right back - I promise."  
The stairwell echoed with Prue's footfalls as she hurried up the stairs. With great unease, Phoebe continued flipping through the pages of the book in front of her, utterly convinced the search was a waste of precious time, but not knowing what else to do.  
Several anxious minutes passed, as Phoebe continued to turn pages mechanically. She was not thinking of the task at hand. She wanted desperately not to have Prue out of her sight - even for a few minutes.  
Finally, unable to suppress her anxiety any longer, she made for the stairwell. Bounding up the stairs two at a time, she called out, "Prue? Prue?"  
Finally reaching the door to the ground floor, she pushed the door open and walked into the lobby. The floor was utterly deserted, and her footsteps echoed loudly in the open space.  
"Prue?" Phoebe called aloud, her voice echoing off the ceiling.  
When no answer came, Phoebe pelted for the front entrance, fighting down a rising sense of panic.  
She found her sister on the sidewalk, staring up into the sky. Phoebe was about to ask her where she'd been, but a fierce wind had picked up and was blowing furiously through the streets. It was so strong that Phoebe could barely hold her feet. A large vortex of water vapor and debris was forming over the city. It would have looked like a waterspout, if not for brightly multi-colored streaks of lightning and deep threads of absolute blackness running through it. As as the disturbance widened, great shrieks and moans and wails could be heard filtering downwards. The noise was deafening.  
"Those are demons, right?" Phoebe asked her sister.  
Prue's face was blanched with horror. "Oh, yeah. Those are demons."  
"Oh, great," Phoebe muttered darkly. "Somebody's switched on the television set."

* * * 

"Prue, what are we going to do?"  
Prue looked at her sister in utter dismay. "I don't know, Phoebe, I really don't know."  
"Okay, oh, ah, let's think this through," Phoebe said frantically, trying desperately not to panic. "I was brought here to open the door for magical beings into a world without magic. So I'm the focus. So, uh, maybe if you kill me, they have nothing to home in on?" Phoebe made a moue of distaste. "Okay, maybe that isn't such a good idea."  
Prue shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not killing you," she declared emphatically. "Besides, you are not the door. You're the key."  
Phoebe fixed her older sister with a significant look. "The key. Prue, you're a genius!"  
"I am?"  
"Look, we're both still witches, right? The only reasons our powers don't work is because there's not enough magic left in this world to work with."  
"Right..."  
"But now we do have a magical source to work with. It's right above us." Phoebe pointed at the vortex. "We can tap into that - it's nothing but supernatural energy."  
"And we could cast a spell to close the portal," Prue added excitedly.  
"And the demons would be locked out of your world, for good this time." Phoebe grinned.  
Prue's face fell.  
"What's wrong?" Phoebe asked.  
"Phoebe, you'd be trapped here," Prue said quietly. "You'd never get home."  
Phoebe sputtered to a halt; she hadn't considered that possibility.  
"Your sisters would never see you again. And your reality would no longer have the power of three to protect it."  
Prue pointed up at the vortex. "Phoebe, that may be your only way home."  
Phoebe glanced up at the sky. The vortex was widening and gaining strength every second. She looked at Prue soberly.  
"Prue, I can't let you die," she said finally. "This world has no magical defenses. If I leave, you'd be torn to pieces by demons. Patience would be, too. I can't even think of letting that happen. I won't let it happen," she added, with great conviction.  
"Phoebe..."  
"Come on," Phoebe grabbed her sister's hand. "This is going to take every ounce of magical energy we can focus, and if this is going to work, I need your help. I can't do this by myself. And we haven't any time to waste."  
They pelted for Prue's SUV, and Prue had the vehicle in gear just as Phoebe leaped into the passenger side door. They pulled out into the street and hurried away.  
"Where's the spot where we can get right under it?" Phoebe asked, leaning forward to stare out the windscreen.  
"That's obvious," Prue said grimly. "That vortex is forming right over where Halliwell manor used to be." She took a corner on two wheels. "Write the spell, hurry Phoebe, I'm busy driving!"  
Phoebe found both a pencil and a notepad in the glovebox and frantically began scribbling, only pausing when Prue sent the SUV careening around another corner at top speed. Fortunately, there was almost no traffic on the surface streets, but Prue's frantic driving and the violence of the atmospheric disturbance threatened to tip the vehicle more than once.  
"We need to get there in one piece, Prue," Phoebe yelped with alarm as Prue turned the SUV around one corner especially hard.  
"Sorry."  
Prue parked the car at the end of Prescott Street, and Phoebe looked up from her scribbling. "Prue, why don't you drive the rest of the way up to the - oh, right," she made a face. "There's no house to pull up in front of."  
"Is the spell ready?"  
"The rhymes are really lame, but yeah, I think this will work." She gave her sister a worried glance. "But only if we get our powers back."  
"We'll only find that out once we get right under that thing," Prue muttered.  
"Yeah, I was afraid you were going to say that," Phoebe said resignedly. She hesitated.  
"What is it?" Prue asked.  
"This really should be a power of three spell," Phoebe admitted. "I don't know if the two of us are going to be enough."  
Prue fixed her sister with a sober stare. "My Phoebe was one of the most powerful witches the world has ever known," she said quietly. "If you have even a fraction of her power, then we have more than enough to stop these guys." She managed a nervous smile. "You ready?"  
"Nope. Let's go."  
They scrambled out of the car and had to lean into the howling wind. The gusts very nearly bowled them over. The vortex was reaching downwards now, snaking for the crater where Halliwell manor once stood.  
"We have to cast the spell before the vortex reaches the ground," Prue yelled over the wind. "We have to hurry!"  
With each step the sisters took, the wind grew fiercer and pushed at them harder.  
"Gee, you'd think somebody doesn't want us to stop them," Phoebe yelled back.  
The sisters joined hands and staggered up the street, leaning into the wind at nearly a forty five degree angle. By the time they reached the block where the manor once stood, they were almost crawling.  
"Do you feel anything yet?" Prue yelled, although both them realized it would be difficult to sense any magical stirrings as near hurricane force gusts buffeted them.  
Grimly, they advanced to the rim of the crater, and suddenly Phoebe stiffened in shock. She was having a premonition. She could clearly see her sister Piper, sitting alone at the kitchen table in Halliwell manor, weeping inconsolably.  
"You bastards," Phoebe muttered with great anger. "You're going to win either way."  
"What did you say?" Prue yelled.  
"We have our powers," Phoebe yelled back. "We have to do this now, Prue!"  
The sisters huddled at the edge of the crater, wind and dirt scouring and stinging them. They joined hands, and crouching down for whatever protection they could find, read the incantation aloud from Phoebe's notepad.  
_"I bind this ring, I close this door,"_ they intoned. _"Let the demons enter nevermore. Send evil back from whence it came, calm the sky, salve the pain. Bind and banish and close and heal. Let all these things now be real."_  
For the second time in as many days, Phoebe felt herself lifted up off her feet and swept into the air by the force of the winds. She screamed in terror, knowing full well what would happen if she were to be trapped inside the vortex.  
Suddenly, another blast of wind forced her down again, smacking her violently into hard earth. A loud explosion, like the crack of lightning or a cannon shot, rang in her ears, momentarily deafening her.  
Stunned and dazed, she lay insensible in the dirt, unable to think or move.  
Slowly her head cleared, and frantically she pushed herself up on her hands and knees.  
"Prue? Prue?!" she yelled in a near panic.  
Prue Halliwell lay just a few feet away, also struggling to sit up. She was covered head to toe in dirt and mud. Unable to stand, Phoebe crawled to her sister's side.  
"Prue? Are you okay?"  
Prue coughed violently, and spat a glob of mud from her mouth. "Ugh," she rasped. "I _hate_ fighting demons!"  
"Are you hurt?" Phoebe asked, trying to wipe away some of the grime from her sister's face. Prue managed a weak smile, and touched her sister's cheek, and Phoebe realized she too was coated head to toe in mud.  
"I'm good, I'm okay," Prue managed to choke out an answer. "You?"  
"Yeah, I think so."  
The sisters sent their gaze heavenwards. Above them, the vortex had vanished utterly. Some wind and dark clouds remained, but they were empty of magical content - nothing more than water vapor that would shortly disperse on its own.  
"Huh." Phoebe's mud-caked face twisted into a triumphant smile. "We did it, Prue! We vanquished the demons!" She let out a war whoop that was as much relief as it was triumph. "Woohoo! We got our groove back, sistah!"  
Prue started to laugh, but still had to choke and cough out more mud. Phoebe ruefully took in stock of their appearance.  
"We look like we've been mud wrestling," she remarked.  
"Yeah," Prue gagged. "And the mud won."  
A small object smacked into the ground, right in front of them. Prue and Phoebe exchanged puzzled glances. Then Phoebe painfully leaned forward and dug the object from the soft, wet earth.  
"Ouch!" she yelped, dropping it. "It's hot."  
Grabbing the hem of her now-ruined hoodie, Phoebe retrieved the object and began to carefully wipe the mud away from it.  
It was a half-melted ring, the gold band misshapen and squat. A blackened, crushed gemstone was still seated in its center, smoking slightly.  
"I'm guessing that was your ring?" Prue asked.  
Phoebe's face twisted into a snarl of rage. She pushed herself to her feet on badly shaking legs, and with an aggrieved shriek, hurled the ring high into the air.  
Prue made a violent gesture with one free hand, and what was left of the ring exploded with a loud bang.  
"Beware the wrath of Piper!" she yelled after it, sharing her sister's anger.  
Phoebe collapsed onto the ground again, and the two sisters embraced, laughing and weeping with joy and relief.

* * *

Some hours later, Phoebe was sitting in a wicker chair on Prue's porch, a glass of wine in one hand and a heating pad on her back. The night air was clear and cold, but all was still. Although in the heart of the city, this San Francisco rolled up its streets at night, and Phoebe could actually see the stars in sky above her. Prue stepped out onto the patio and closed the door.  
"It's awfully cold to be sitting out here," she observed quietly, taking the chair next to her sister.  
"I know."  
"That sweater's warm enough?"  
"I'm good. Thanks."  
"Patience wants to know if you're feeling well enough to read her a story before bedtime."  
Phoebe managed a wan, exhausted smile. "I'm always well enough for stories before bedtime," she said. "Can I finish my wine first?"  
"Well, I thought after I put Patience down for the night, we can finish off the bottle." Prue smiled painfully, the scratches on her face still tender. "I think you've earned it."  
"Are your powers still gone?"  
"Still gone. As soon as the portal collapsed, my powers vanished again. Just like before. You?"  
"Yeah, mine are gone too. At least, I think they're gone. It's not like I had a whole lot of control to begin with."  
"It's possible that we still have our powers," Prue allowed cautiously. "If what we experienced today is any guide, they may not work because there's not enough magical energy to conduit. You okay?"  
Tears were welling in Phoebe's eyes. "I wish... I could have said good-bye to them," she said finally. "My Prue. My Piper."  
Prue bit her lip in sympathetic pain. "I know, Phoebe," she said softly. "Believe me. I know."  
"I wish I had said, 'I love you', to them yesterday. I wish I had said it every single day." Great tears began to spill down her scratched cheeks. "I want so much for them to know that."  
Prue reached over and took her sister's hand in hers, and squeezed it tightly.  
"I think they know," she said quietly. "You saved this entire world, Phoebe. Not just San Francisco. Every soul in this world is safe and well. Thanks to you."  
Phoebe took a sip from her wine glass.  
"It's not fair," she protested brokenly.  
"No. It's not fair," Prue agreed.  
Phoebe closed her eyes and more mute tears spilled down her cheeks. "This is how you felt," she said. "The pain when you lost Andy. And Piper."  
"And you," Prue added solemnly. "Yes."  
"Oh God, Prue, how do you stand it? How can you even live with it?" Phoebe asked in anguish.  
"I don't know how I lived through it," Prue said thoughtfully. "But I had Patience, and she had me. It was hard, but I think that was enough."  
Prue Halliwell gave her sister a sad, tearful smile. "It won't get better, Phoebe. But it will get easier. I promise."  
Prue got up. "We'll be inside, whenever you're ready." She leaned over behind Phoebe, with her cheek almost touching her sister's. "And you are my bright, brave, beautiful, wonderful, magical baby sister," she whispered softly. "And I love you, Phoebe Halliwell, I love you very, very much."  
Prue left a light kiss on her sister's cheek, then went back inside, to leave Phoebe alone with her thoughts. 

* * *

A few days later, the sisters were again sitting at the breakfast table, reluctantly getting ready for the hustle and bustle of the day. Patience was wolfing down some cold cereal, legs swinging rhythmically beneath her chair. Phoebe, clad in bathrobe, pajamas and slippers, was clinging to her coffee cup for dear life while scouring the "Help Wanted" section of the newspaper. Prue had already dressed for work, and was packing a light lunch for herself.  
"Still planning to meet us at the park this afternoon?" Prue asked Phoebe.  
Phoebe looked up from the paper and grinned. "Yup. I only have one interview this morning. So if you want, I can pick up Patience at day care and meet you there later."  
"That would be great." Prue hesitated. "Is it okay if Darryl joins us? I was thinking we could all have dinner together afterwards."  
Phoebe laughed. "As long as he doesn't pull a gun on me this time."  
Prue smiled. "You have to admit, it's awfully freaky meeting someone who knew for sure is already dead," she pointed out. She wrinkled her nose at her sister teasingly. "And a demon to boot. I promise he'll behave this time."  
"Good. I like Darryl a lot. And I think your Darryl is an awful lot like the one I know."  
"Once he gets to know you, he'll love you like I do," Prue quipped, and the sisters stuck out their tongues at each other.  
"That's gross," Patience objected, and Phoebe laughed.  
"You're right, kiddo," she agreed.  
Prue turned serious for a moment. "You know you don't have to find a job right away."  
"I know."  
"I just don't want you to feel guilty, that's all."  
"I don't. It's just - now that I'm staying, I would like to help contribute to the household income, since I'm certainly helping contribute to its expenses." Phoebe made a face. "And I really do need a wardrobe of my own."  
Prue laughed. "So, what's the interview you have this morning?"  
"It's only a part time job, but actually I thought - to start, that wouldn't be such a bad idea, you know? It would give me a chance to get my feet wet in this version of San Francisco, and get me out of the apartment for a few hours every day, and bring in a little money, until we can figure out something more permanent -"  
"What's the job?" Prue interrupted, calling her sister to a halt.  
Phoebe glanced down at the advertisement with a moue of chagrin. "This is a for an administrative assistant position with the city."  
"Where?"  
"Actually, I think it's at one of the offices where they do social work, and it's not far from here. In fact, I can take a trolley car most of the way."  
"Don't need a ride, then?"  
Phoebe held up a playful, protesting hand. "Nope, I'm good," she declared. "I'm better than good, baby, I am magnificent!"  
Patience laughed at her auntie Phoebe, who in turn gave her a mischievous squint.  
Prue laughed heartily. "All right, fine," she said, then turned to her daughter. "Hurry up with breggfirst, sweetie, we need to leave in fifteen minutes."  
"Okay, mommy."  
"And after day care, it's time for swings and slides and sandboxes with your auntie," Phoebe added.  
"Hooray!" Patience yelled, and her mother winced.  
"Indoor voice, sweetie, please," Prue protested, but she smiled broadly as she chastened her. "Indoor voice!"

A short time later, Phoebe hopped off the trolley in front of the city building, and, consulting her notepad to confirm the address, hurried inside. San Francisco was showing signs of life again, and there were far more people about than any time Phoebe had seen before. That might mean more demons, too, she thought darkly to herself, but then pushed the negative thought away. That was a crisis for another day, and it was nice to see the city returning to a more normal state of jostling, honking, and general rushing about.  
Phoebe slipped through the revolving glass door, made a quick inquiry at the reception desk, then entered a windowed office across the lobby. The noise in the office was almost deafening.  
A petite, attractive young woman with dark hair saw her walk in, and got up from her desk to greet her.  
"Hello, can I help you?"  
"Hi," Phoebe smiled, trying not to feel flustered. "My name's Phoebe Halliwell. I have an interview at eleven this morning with a Mr. P. Matthews? Is he in?"  
The young woman gave Phoebe a warm, friendly smile and extended a hand in greeting. "Hi. I'm Paige Matthews," she said. "It's so nice to finally meet you."


End file.
